


Miss Me More

by Bellatrix_Wannabe_89



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A lot of music, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Both Are ‘Queens’ In Their Own Way, F/M, For Daenerys AND Sansa Fans, Inspired by Music, Jaime Lannister Has Issues, Minor Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Minor Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister, Musicians, No Incest, Past Ramsey Bolton/Sansa Stark, Title from a Country Song, for JC or Jonerys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89/pseuds/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89
Summary: Jaime Lannister is the bad boy of country music. A smug playboy who gets into fights after shows and whose outlaw act is quickly losing him fans. His manager/brother Tyrion has an idea to win back his popularity. Enter Brienne Tarth; an award winning songwriter who grudgingly agrees to write his next album. Tyrion is grateful he choose someone who won’t bring any more drama to his brothers life. It’s not like a romantic at heart ugly lyricist and a smirking handsome singer whose rumored to have slept with half of King’s Landing would ever get along much less fall in love. Those kinds of things only happen in love songs, they don’t ever play out in real life...
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Podrick Payne/Sansa Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Songs used in this chapter  
> “What Hurts the Most” by Rascal Flatts  
> “Thunder in the Rain” by Kane Brown.

**Jaime Lannister In Trouble AGAIN!**

**After a show at the famous Storm’s End Amphitheater, the infamous bad boy of country Jaime Lannister got into a fight with one of his fans outside the venue. Witnesses on the scene say the singer did not appear to be intoxicated but could not pinpoint exactly what led to the dispute. While police were called no charges were filed on either party. This is not the first time Lannister’s bad-boy attitude has landed him in hot water.** **Click Here** **for more stories on the singers outlandish behavior.**

**Lannister’s Third Album More Of The Same**

**Country star Jaime Lannister’s third album, ‘Certified Outlaw’, was the first in his discography to not have any single reach the top twenty in the country billboard. No surprises here. ‘Certified Outlaw’ is a carbon copy of his first two albums; the self titled debut ‘Jaime’ and sophomore album ‘Lion's Share’. For what it is, a loud fast-paced country album filled with sex and trucks and guns, it’s fine. Nothing special, it’s just simply there making noise, which is why his fanbase doesn’t seem to be flocking to it. Not only does Lannister sound bored on all of the tracks, any deepness or depth in the lyrics is nowhere to be found.** **Click Here** **for a complete review of each track.**

**Overall 4.3/10**

Jaime sighed as he walked down the long hallway, plush crimson carpet under his snake leather boots. Gold and platinum albums covered the wall along with album covers in aesthetically pleasing white frames spaced out every few feet. 

Tiny golden mockingbirds perched on a single branch were painted all along the black walls, the symbol of Littlefinger Records, the company that gave Jaime his big break and owned by music producer Petyr Baelish.

Jaime’s freshman cover and platinum album award also had a spot on the wall of fame. He was young. Just twenty five, long golden hair falling into his face as he glanced downwards, the only color on the black and white photo was his green and blue string bracelet and the title, his name in brilliantly bright red and gold. He looked effortlessly bored but impossibly handsome as well, as if landing a major record deal was no big deal. 

“You never look at the audience in the cover,” the photographer Petyr hired told him at that first shoot, the black haired producer nodding beside him. “You’re too good for that.”

Which is why his first, second and third album all looked indistinguishable from the other. Black and white, looking off in the distance, bored with the process, bored of the fans, bored of everything to do with professional music. The first two times it was a lie but the third cover, he had to admit they nailed his feelings pretty good.

At least they let him wear a shirt this time.

But the devil-may-care look and act was what made him, and Petyr, their millions. The smugness that exuded off of him in waves, a smoldering sinful look in his bright green eyes, the image of him walking down a dirt road in jeans and a half opened flannel with a brown dusty cowboy hat and a bottle of northern whiskey in one hand, a shot gun in the other and a half burnt cigarette dangling between his lips with his arm wrapped around the waist of a pretty little blonde in skin tight cutoff jeans was what made him one of the biggest names in country music.

The Aerys incident that happened after his second album release just added to his outlaw persona, and he let it. People already thought the worst of him, what was a little bit more disdain? Sex and guns and whiskey, fights and violence and a distain for anyone not worthy of his ‘real’ music.

It worked well. Very well. Or at least they thought. His latest singles, singles that he hadn’t put much effort into promoting or really singing to be sure, weren’t charting, all the reviews declared it mediocre at worst or boring at best, nothing different from his first two albums that propelled him to stardom. 

It still sold fairly well, but it still cost Petyr a pretty penny, and that was unacceptance to him. His artists didn’t not chart. His albums didn’t not get gold or platinum. Jaime was lucky his contract covered him for four albums and he hadn’t dropped him right then. Petyr did, however, fire Jaime’s lyricist Bronn and told him he would get him a new songwriter. Two months later and two songwriters rejected Petyr told him to fly out to King’s Landing the next day, not caring he just played a stadium the previous night and his head still pounded from the fight with a fan outside the venue. The meeting was promptly at 9:00 AM, and Jaime was told to arrive fifteen minutes early because this guy apparently did NOT suffer tardiness or wasted time. 

Jaime swaggered through the front doors of the record company at 11:38.

He wondered who Petyr managed to get for him this time. The no-nonsense Stannis Baratheon whose whole family was involved in the scene in some way or Walder Hodor who was a man of very few words but a brilliant mind once he put it on paper would both be good choices. Maybe Roose Bolton? Although that would be career suicide if Jaime sang a song written by him since that whole ordeal with Sansa Stark and his greasy haired son Ramsey played out. Any association with either of the Bolton’s was an instant black mark in the eye of public opinion right now. 

Petyr was in bed with ‘Flayed Man Music’ in private but in public he had to pretend to be just as outraged as the rest of the world the day the red headed sensation posted photos of the bruises and cuts on her ravengram caused by Ramsey along with the news his father threatened to destroy her career if she went to the police or press with video Ramsey took without her permission or knowledge of the two of them in bed. Jaime wouldn’t put it past Petyr to hire Bolton and then just give him a ghost name in the credits.

Whoever it was, Jaime was going to hate this as much as he hated working with Bronn. Rumors of his attitude during this last album had spread wide, rumors of him drinking until three in the morning, trashing hotel rooms past the point of excessiveness, sleeping with countless nameless women after the ‘Aerys incident’ made people reluctant to work with him. Petyr painted him as a rockstar with a country swoon and if that’s what people thought of him as because of Aerys and carefully positioned paparazzi, well, fine. Let them think that. Let them write tired songs with that outlaw persona in the back of their mind, Jaime would reject them, and eventually Bronn would be re-hired to pump out one more mediocre album, and then his career would be over.

Jaime reached the glass double doors that hid the meeting room he was supposed to meet his new songwriter in, painted black with the golden mockingbird perching on his frail little branch, took a deep breath and opened the door where he saw the ugliest woman Jaime had ever seen sitting on a sleek black leather couch with arms crossed over a pathetic excuse for a chest.

And she was pissed.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said with a charming smile that did nothing to sweeten the sour look on her face. “My flight was delayed.”

A lie, one easily disproved just by the state of his dress, but what did he care? She would be no different than the other songwriters in his career. Pumping out the same ol’ same ol’ southern rock, going off what others thought him to be. It might be a little softer then what he used to sing, but it would still be molded to his bad-boy persona.

This woman said nothing, just continued her hateful glare with big blue eyes. Very pretty eyes, if Jaime was being honest with himself. He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “Jaime Lannister,” he offered with another award winning smile.

“Brienne Tarth,” she said sharply without taking his hand. “And you, Mr. Lannister, are nearly three hours late.”

Ah. Brienne Tarth. You’d have to be living under a rock not to hear about the woman who worked hand in hand with the Stark girl who was destroying every chart and record that existed for every country singer after just three years on the scene.

“I said I was sorry, babe,” he said, taking a seat beside her when he realized she wouldn’t be taking his hand.

“My name is Brienne,” she corrected him sharply. “Not ‘babe’.”

He quirked his head at her, eyes searching over her face. She really was unattractive with big thick lips, an ocean of freckles and crooked teeth behind thick wide lips. “Why do you hate me, have I ever harmed you?”

“You’ve harmed others,” she said. “Aerys Targaryen.”

Jaime snorted before he reached out and grabbed a bottle of water from the table, ignoring the glass of whiskey on rocks beside it. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t pour out a drink for him. I don’t think Petyr will appreciate the stain on the carpet.” He took a long drink before he leaned back against the couch. The arrogance grated her, he could tell, which simply made him want to do it all the more. “So what do you have for me?” She opened her mouth to speak but before she could, Jaime interrupted. “Before you open your obscenely large mouth a few caveats. Nothing about sex, guns or anything about long legs dangling off the back of a tailgate with a beer in hand.” He smiled at her. “Unless they happen to be your legs. In which case I might have to make an exception.”

Her face reddened, and he laughed. Oh this was going to be fun.

“Mr. Lannister.” Her voice was sharp, without any amusement at all. “I flew all the way down here from Winterfell on the red eye with three hours notice. Throughout my career my songs have amassed a total of five Grammys, which is five more than you currently possess.” 

His face darkened. “I was cheated.” 

“You were mediocre.” _So the bitch had a spine._ “I do not need to do this for you. Truth be told I would love nothing more then to leave King’s Landing and go back to Winterfell, but I’m here. I’ve been here for over three hours waiting to pitch to you. I would appreciate a modicum of respect, if at all possible.”

In spite of himself, Jaime felt himself smile and then laugh. He gestured towards the thick blue binder in her arms. “Fine. You have my attention. Dazzle me with your Grammy winning talent, Brienne Tarth.”

Still scowling, she handed over the binder and without waiting Jaime flipped open to a random page in the middle of it, expecting nothing but blank papers and plastic dividers as a means to make her portfolio look more complete then it was. Instead, he found every page filled with lyrics and sheet music, handwritten and typed. 

“Your section is here,” Brienne said, flipping to a section in the back with a divider labeled, ‘Lannister’. 

Jaime began reading the first song in her portfolio, his face falling as he read the lyrics and sheet music that showed it would be a slow smooth song with very little dramatics. He expected songs about sex or trucks or guns and instead… “They both kill themselves?” he asked the tall blonde beside him, swallowing hard as he read it over.

She confirmed it with a nod of her head. “It’s meant to be a duet. Someone with a soprano range.” She to the next page. “Here’s a solo I have in mind. It’s a little bit more upbeat.”

“After a double suicide where they both become alcoholics I’m pretty sure a song about a dying dog would be more upbeat.” Jaime turned his attention back to the album, testing out the lyrics with the beat she had written beside it.

“ **_I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house_ **

**_That don't bother me_ **

**_I can take a few tears now and then and just let 'em out_ **

**_I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while_ **

**_Even though goin' on with you gone still upsets me_ **

**_There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay_ **

**_But that's not what gets me_ **

**_What hurts the most was being so close_ **

**_And havin' so much to say_ **

**_And watchin' you walk away_ **

**_And never knowin' what could've been_ **

**_And not seein' that lovin' you_ **

**_Is what I was trying to do_ ** _.”_

“I thought you said this was more upbeat.”

“The beat is.”

Jaime chuckled humorlessly. “Well I wanted something different then what I normally get and this is certainly different. Do you have anything not utterly depressing though?”

She flipped a few pages and pointed to a handwritten page of lyrics. 

“ **_Your lips, your eyes, don't wanna let go_ **

**_Your skin on mine, I'm losing control_ **

**_Hear the rumble in your chest_ **

**_Feel the wind coming off your breathe_ **

**_Your curves ain't slow me down_ **

**_Ain't nothing gonna stop us now_ **

**_You're fire, I'm lightning_ **

**_We're burning at the core_ **

**_Falling and crashing_ **

**_Girl we're a perfect storm_ **

**_Every time our hearts collide_ **

**_I can feel our love come alive_ **

**_It's the same, baby_ **

**_We're like thunder in the rain_ ** _.”_

“It’s not subtle,” she admitted, stunning him with her honesty. Typically songwriters didn’t like to point out their faults much less when they were pitching. “But I love the imagery of the storms and rains and wind.”

“I do too,” Jaime admitted. He pursed his lips before he handed her back the binder. “I can roll with this.”

“Really?” 

“Yes really. What, did you think I was going to kick you out in a drunken rage screaming, cursing and throw your binder out after you?”

“Yes. I- I mean… I’ve heard rumors…” she muttered, a blush stealing up her face. 

“All of which must be true.” His smile soured. “Sorry to disappoint you, babe, but you’re gonna be stuck with poor pathetic messed up me.”

“I told you before, my name is Brienne.”

“Well _Brienne_ , I suggest you get out before I change my mind. You have rather long legs, I suggest you use them to get away from me.”

She huffed and stood from the couch. Jaime couldn’t help but gawk at her. Brienne was _TALL!_ She was the tallest woman he ever saw, even taller than him by an inch or so he wagered.

She didn’t bother wasting time or effort on manners and instead just stormed away from him, slamming the door shut behind her. Jaime got out his phone and texted both Tyrion and Petyr.

“The Tarth woman is a keeper,” he told them in no uncertain terms before putting his phone back in his pocket and flopping back against the couch. 

Brienne was a talented lyricist. Of that he had no doubt. But she thought the worst of him. Apart from being an uptight stick in the mud who didn’t smile with a face that could curdle milk she was no different than anyone else in this Godsforsaken city.

Besides she probably only showed him the best she had to offer. He’s worked with these kinds of people before. One or two great songs but when the checks cleared and he was in the recording studio all of a sudden those great songs were nowhere to be found and he would be stuck singing the same mediocre songs over and over again.

He finished the last of the water, dumped out the untouched whiskey and headed out of the studio shutting the door and the lights off behind him. 

Please Review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You can find Jaime Lannister’s Album ‘Certified Outlaw’**   
>  **  
>  [Here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2rXB4n71EOwoMXsslnM3nC?si=SCp8GHCFRCaRfbAv1WvJsA)   
>  **


	2. Chapter 2

**_It was the first and the last time they saw each other face to face_ **

**_They shared a crimson smile and just walked away_ **

**_And left the secret at the grave..._ **

**_And the septon said he was a good man!_ **

**_And his brother said he was a good friend!_ **

**_But the women in the two black veils, they didn't bother to cry!_ **

**_Bye bye, bye bye!_ **

**_Yeah, they took turns laying a rose down!_ **

**_Threw a handful of dirt into the deep ground!_ **

**_He's not the only one who had a secret to hide!_ **

**_Bye bye, bye bye, bye byeeeee!_ **

Brienne smiled as the redhead beamed, taking off the oversized headphones as the music faded. She looked so happy, so bright and her icy blue eyes had a light to them that Brienne hadn’t seen in a long time.

Sansa came out of the booth, bobbing her head to the music after she asked her producer to play it back. “This is it. This is absolutely the take.” Yara turned towards Brienne once they were done. “And good idea to add those bars with the violin. It set it off really nicely, a lot better than the fiddle I wanted to use.”

The tall blonde blushed and bowed her head, muttering her thanks. Yara knew she was skilled in the business. She was one of the best producers in the business and just as she was quick to take credit for songs that would not have gone anywhere without her talent, she was fast to dish out compliments when she felt it was well earned. 

“Well to contradict the eternal word of Davos Seaworth,” Sansa said after taking a drink of water, “if you wanna play in Winterfell, you gotta have a violin in the band.” 

Yara chuckled, pressed a few buttons on the awe inspiring board full of knobs and buttons and sliders that Brienne had no idea what they did, and turned to the singer. “I really think we got this, Sansa. I do, unless you wanna fix anything I think this is it.”

The redhead beamed. “Really? After just three weeks?”

“You were a lot more focused lately you’ve been in the past.” A smirk curled to the producers lips. “I can’t imagine what the reason for that could be.”

Sansa chuckled and took another drink of water, forcing a smirk to her lips. Brienne could see some of that light in her eyes disappear so she reached out with a large hand and rubbed her shoulders.

“I’ll call my mom as soon as I’m home, hopefully she can get the singles out by next week.”

“I’ll be waiting for Catelyn’s call.” Yara stood up from her chair and wrapped her arms around the redhead who quickly returned the embrace. “You kicked ass this time around.”

“Thanks, Yara.”

She turned to Brienne and smiled up at the tall woman. “And once again, you did amazing. I love producing your stuff, Tarth, the lyrics really do speak for themselves.”

“Thank you but it wouldn’t be as good as it was if you weren’t there to make each song as stunning as you do.”

Yara chuckled as she reached up and pressed a large red button, dimming half the board of its lights. “Yeah well, it’s a lot easier when you don’t have shit lyrics to work with, or someone who needs their voice auto tuned to the point it doesn’t resemble anything human.”

After they said their final goodbyes Brienne and Sansa made their way outside, shoving their hands deep in their pockets as Winterfell’s chilly snows and cold winds blew merciless. “You wanna go get a drink?” Sansa asked once they were safe in her car, teeth chattering only slightly as they waited for the heat to kick on. 

“I wish I could. I have a red eye at 4 AM.”

“King’s Landing?” She nodded, body going less and less rigid as the car warmed up. Sansa shook her head as she drove down the streets, a layer of soft white covering the roads. It was clear the plows hadn’t been by yet. “I don’t know why you agreed to write for that prick.”

“Your mother owed Tyrion Lannister a favor, he cashed it in by asking for me,” Brienne explained.

“What was the favor?”

“Didn’t ask. Your mom tells me to do something, it gets done.”

Brienne owed Catelyn her life, her career and three of her Grammys. So when she asked Brienne, with a sour note in her voice, to please go and meet with Jaime Lannister and try to land a job writing for him she bit back a groan and said of course she would. 

She had hoped he would turn her down but she wasn’t about to give him half assed work. She would write as well for him as she would write for a man who wasn’t a drunk, womanizing, sexist scandal-ridden sleaze who showed up late for their appointment and used their limited time to try to make her uncomfortable.

“How about just dinner then?”

Sansa’s voice interrupted her musings and Brienne blinked, asking her to please repeat herself. “I asked if you wanted to get something to eat. We gotta have some kind of celebration for the end of the album.”

She agreed to a quick bite and Sansa drove the two of them to a relatively out of the way burger joint where hopefully they might be able to eat in peace without flocks of fans asking for Sansa’s autograph. The incoming storm made that not only possible, but they were the only two in the small little burger shack.

“I know you’re doing this for my mom but he’s such an asshole. You know I heard he hooked up with Cersei Baratheon AND Margaery Tyrell at the same time. Word on the street is Cersei wrote ‘Peacock’ about him. If I were you I’d give him the worst music. Just absolutely destroy his next album. You already cashed the check right?”

“Jaime is less than a gentleman,” Brienne agreed after putting in her order and thanking the waitress. “But if my names gonna be attached to it I won’t give subpar work.”

“Fair point. But he’s like the ideal country bro.”

Brienne quirked her brow. “Country bro?”

“Yeah. You know the guys who sing nothing about girls ‘shaking their money maker’, slide on over in my pickup, barefoot cut off jeans. That kinda stuff.” She chuckled as she took a sip of her soda. “If anyone encompasses the ideal of that, it’s Jaime Lannister.” Sansa took a sip of her soda and then laughed at the look on her friends face, the one she knew very well. “I just inspired another song didn’t I?”

Brienne didn’t hear her. She was too busy fumbling for her notebook and pen in her bag and ninety minutes later Sansa was beaming as she called Yara, telling them they needed one more day in the studio tomorrow.

Night had fallen by the time they left the burger joint, leaving an immense tip to the waitress who, while she was over eager to serve the star, didn’t bug Sansa for a selfie or autograph during her meal and was rewarded for her patience when the redhead asked the giddy young girl if she wanted to take a picture together. 

The next morning Brienne, tired and weary eyed but on time, took a cab to her hotel room, took a cold shower to try to wake herself up and made her way to Lyttlefinger Records, praying and hoping that Jaime was on time, wanting to get this meeting over with as soon as she could so she could go back to her hotel room and sleep.

He wasn’t. 

There wasn’t much else to do so Brienne went over and began to fiddle with the coffee maker, frowning at the complicated machine. Whatever happened to just a scoop of grounds, a filter and a pot of water?

“Green button for regular, red for decaf, blue for mocha, black for espresso then white for latte.” Brienne turned and watched as a dwarf with golden curls and pale green eyes wearing a custom fit suit walked in, offering his hand that Brienne promptly shook, trying not to imagine how utterly absurd the two of them must have looked standing side by side. “Tyrion Lannister,” he greeted. “I’m Jaime’s brother and manager. I know, I know, the resemblance is uncanny.”

She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to laugh at that so instead she just grabbed a cup and pressed the green button, figuring you couldn’t go wrong with good old black coffee. “Brienne Tarth.” 

“I know who you are. You’re the reason Sansa Stark is getting on the cover of Rolling Stone and being credited with ‘making country hip again’.” 

“Sansa made herself a star,” she said with stubborn loyalty. “If she was singing my songs or someone else’s it wouldn’t matter. Her hard work is what got her where she is.”

“Being the daughter of a legendary country star with one of the most formidable managers in the business as a mother doesn’t hurt either though.” His smile was friendly, meant to put her at ease and let her know that it was meant as nothing more than a joke but Brienne didn’t return the gesture. 

Sansa’s family name may have gotten her in front of producers but her own talent is what gave her the legion of fans she had accumulated in the short time, her voice is what out that ‘New Artist’ Grammy on her shelf, her skill is what propelled her to the top of the charts, both country and mainstream.

Tyrion didn’t push the topic of Sansa any more and the two of them sat down at the couch, coffee in hand. He motioned to the thick blue binder she carried with her on the coffee table. “May I?” Brienne nodded and he took it in hand, flipping through the pages. A large bulk of the front of the binder was all Sansa including what she had written last night in the diner. He stopped at that and let his eyes read over it, raising a brow at the lyrics. 

“This is gonna go over well...” Tyrion muttered and Brienne felt herself go flush. She hadn’t expected to see the faces of the people the song mocked when they heard it.

“What will?”

They both looked towards the door where Jaime was standing in the doorway. The early morning sun caught his golden hair just right and made the bright green of his eyes as sharp as steel. His jeans and t-shirt were nothing special but it fit him in such a way that Brienne had to remember how to breathe when she watched him walk in.

Jaime was an ass of epic proportions, but the man looked more golden god then human.

Without waiting for an answer he took the binder from his brother and read the lyrics to the newest song. 

**_Well, I wish I had some shoes on my two bare feet_ **

**_And it's gettin' kinda cold in these painted-on cut-off jeans_ **

**_I hate the way this bikini top chafes_ **

**_Do I really have to wear it all day?_ **

**_I hear you over there on your tailgate whistlin' in_ **

**_Sayin', "Hey girl", but you know I ain't listenin'_ **

**_'Cause I got a name, and to you it ain't_ **

**_Pretty little thing, honey or baby_ **

**_It's drivin' me red, red, red, red, red, red, redneck crazy_ **

**_Bein' the girl in a country song_ **

**_How in the world did it go so wrong?_ **

**_Like all we're good for is lookin' good for_ **

**_You and your friends on the weekend, nothin' more_ **

**_We used to get a little respect_ **

**_Now we're lucky if we even get_ **

**_To climb up in your truck, keep our mouth shut and ride along_ **

**_And be the girl in a country song_ **

  
  


Brienne expected his face to go red with anger, for him to decry the song that made light of singers like him, for him to insist there wasn’t anything wrong with the way many women were treated in that type of country songs, songs that Jaime made his fortune singing. But instead he just threw his head back and laughed, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“This is great!” He nodded his head to the beat he was envisioning, his grin growing brighter. “I mean what can I say except you nailed it, Babe.” He handed the binder back to Tyrion. “That’s all country music is anymore.”

“Brienne,” she said, exasperated but relieved that he wasn’t upset at the song that was effectively mocking him. “My name is Brienne.”

He ignored her protests and went over to the coffee maker and before his cup had even finished brewing Baelish walked in the conference room. Brienne rose to meet him, taking his hand when he offered it. “Brienne Tarth? I’m Petyr Baelish, I own Lyttlefinger Records.” His smile was slick as snake oil.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Baelish.”

“Oh please, call me Petyr.” He sat down beside her and clapped his hands together. “Where shall we start?”

“Well I’ve been working very hard these past two weeks,” she assured the producer, handing over the binder to Jaime as he came over and took a seat by his brother. “I’ve come up with quite a few songs I think you’ll like, if not an albums worth.”

Jaime flipped to his section and flipped past the first three songs, having already seen them the first time they met. No one said much as Jaime read over the lyrics, picturing the beats in his head, imagining himself singing the words on stage… Petyr leaned over and read the lyrics with him, looking none too impressed at her work. Her palms grew clammy and she had to bite back asking if something was the matter. Jaime didn’t seem upset, but it was the producer’s opinion who mattered in the end and if Petyr didn’t like them...

After a while Petyr took the binder from Jaime and turned it back around to Brienne, brow furrowing. “What is this?” 

“It’s a duet,” she answered. A stupid answer but it was the only thing she could think of in there moment.

“Yes thank you, I gathered that by the ‘duet’ written atop the page.”

I- I thought- I was thinking perhaps Davos Seaworth’s voice would be a good fit with Mr. Lannisters.”

Jaime’s eyes lit up like emeralds and his jaw fell open. “Davos Seaworth… THE Davos Seaworth, you wrote a song with him and me singing together in mind?” She nodded. Jaime looked like a child who just spotted his favorite toy at Christmas under the tree. “He’s an icon, he’s a legend, he’s-.”

“Old, Jaime,” said Petyr, looking back down at the binder. “He’s old. As is much of this dribble. It sounds like something Ned Stark or Jorah Mormont might sing. No sex, no trucks, no girls, hardly anything upbeat… All there is here sappy romance, broken hearts and deaths. No one wants to hear that except a bunch of thirteen year old girls, and more importantly no one will buy this if it comes out of your mouth.”

Jaime glared at the producer but said nothing in response. Brienne thought Baelish had a point. Her songs were full of heartbreak and romance, deaths and redemption. Things that were utterly foreign to Jaime Lannister, but that was what Brienne wrote, that was what he hired her to do so that was what she gave.

“His last album was about as modern as you could get,” Tyrion reminded Petyr as he looked over the song they landed on. “It failed miserably. Davos is a country legend, Jaime’s fans will love hearing the two of them sing together.” He flipped a few pages rather lazily, landing on another song, reading over it. “Also we add some serious drums here, some sweet little alto as backup… is your guitar here Jaime? The electric one?”

They all made their way to one of the recording studios in the basement of the large building. It looked similar to the studio in Winterfell but everything was more sleeker, more modern, pitch black with the golden hummingbird symbol fluttering everywhere. Whereas Yara only had to contend with two walls of buttons and knobs, Lyttlefinger Records had four wall length tables full of acoustic options to contend with. 

While Brienne, Tyrion and Petyr stayed on one side, Jaime sat in the other, guitar and binder in hand. “Dont fuck with anything too much,” Tyrion warned Petyr as he began fumbling with the knobs. “Just let him do it on his own first.” He pressed a button on a switch, his voice now seeming to echo through the speaker. “Whenever you’re ready, Jaime.”

Brienne crossed her arms as she watched him straighten up and lean into the microphone and began to sing, his voice soft and silky, caressing, strumming along to the best. 

**_Love how you close your eyes_ **

**_When I pull you in closer_ **

**_Tonight's moving fast but we ain't taking it slower_ **

**_You hit me harder than a drink does_ **

**_You're gonna take me all the way up_ **

**_Something ‘bout you baby, got me going crazy_ **

**_I don't know what to do_ **

It was supposed to be romantic. A slow ballad with a loud dramatic chorus but the way Jaime was singing, it sounded almost dangerous, like the way a lion might growl before he pounced on the prey who was too gazed by the golden flash in the sky to remember to run from the danger. It made her heart start to pound and she gnawed at her lip as he crooned and purred her lyrics.

**_I've never met a girl like you_ **

**_That's ever done it quite like you do_ **

**_Your kiss is double-barrel bourbon on rocks_ **

**_Your lips are just the cherry on top_ **

**_I've never been high like this_ **

**_Turn out the lights and let me breathe you in_ **

**_Your eyes are so diamond, body so gold_ **

**_And I don't want to let you go_ **

**_I've never met a girl like you_ **

Brienne could picture the music video. She could imagine the way he would look to the camera, emeralds flashing bright in the sun, the way he would press his lips to the throat of some beautiful woman with long blonde- no brown, definitely long wavy brown, hair. A shot of sharp nails digging into his bare back, throwing her head back as he kissed her neck, hands clenching silk white sheets, gripping each other as if they were terrified to let go with the drums and guitar and his voice above it all. 

**_Love how you say my name and make it sound so sexy_ **

**_Love how you do that thing, yeah, you know what gets me_ **

**_I'm talking slow motion all night long_ **

**_Baby, love you with the lights on_ **

The way he sang made the song sexy but classy rather than raunchy. Intense, dramatic, nameless lovers clutching each other's faces as they blasted this from their stereo while they joined each other, moved into one another faster and faster...

**_I've never met a girl like you_ **

**_That's ever done it quite like you do_ **

**_Your kiss is double-barrel bourbon on rocks_ **

**_Your lips are just the cherry on top_ **

**_I've never been high like this_ **

**_Turn out the lights and let me breathe you in_ **

**_Your eyes are so diamond, body so gold_ **

**_And I don't want to let you go_ **

**_I've never met a girl like you_ **

The last few words faded past his lips and he set the guitar down. “How was that?” his speaking voice ringing through the speakers. Brienne shook the fantasies away and cleared her throat as she turned from Jaime to a beaming Tyrion and a reluctantly impressed Petyr.

“I think,” Tyrion answered. “That if we find you a set of drums, a bass and a backup singer, we got your first single from your new album.”

Jaime beamed as he came into the other part of the studio. “It’s sex in the form of a song,” Tyrion added, to Jaime’s amusement and Briennes blushing. “It’ll be perfect, Jaime.” He turned to Baelish and raised a brow. “Well?”

The producer turned to Jaime who just shrugged. “You say no and hire someone else then I make sure to waste as much studio time as possible. Then after my contract lapses I’ll sign with Winterfell.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide as she looked between the two men. He was all but threatening to move to a new producer just to be able to sing her lyrics. 

Petyr’s smile was anything but friendly. “If you want her as your lyricist then of course I’ll hire her.”

“Good.” He clapped Petyr on the shoulder rather sharply before he turned to Brienne. “Send me the lyrics and chords.”

“Of which song?”

“All of them. We start recording next week and I want you here.”

She had to bite back her surprise. Each lyricist worked differently. Some insisted on being in the studio from start to finish to make sure exactly what they envisioned ended up as the final track. Others liked to just cash the check and move on, leaving it in the hands of the producers and singers to make sense of it. But, of course, it was up to the singer overall. Some liked their songwriter there to make sure their vision was done right, others didn’t like to be dictated by too many people, even taking reluctant direction from their producers. 

Brienne was somewhere in between. If they asked for her to be there or asked for advice she would gladly give it. If they wanted her gone then she would leave without a word, hoping all the while they didn’t mess things up too badly and they didn’t make her name a mockery. She would have thought for sure Jaime would want to do it all on his own, taking control and commanding those to do it just as he wanted. But he asked for her to be there.

She could think of no other proper response other than a nod so she did just that. Jaime turned to Tyrion next, ordering, not telling, but ordering to get a hold of Davos Seaworth. Pay him whatever he wants but I want him on that track.”

“I’ll call him the second I get out of here,” he promised.

With that assurance Jaime walked out of the studio, guitar slung over his back. Tyrion followed soon after and Brienne made to follow when Baelish called out to her to stay.

Her hair stood on the back of her neck when they were alone but she forced herself to stand tall and unflinching. Men like Baelish had no physical prowess to speak of, they fought their battles with pens and words. They were intimidated by physicality. As much as Brienne hated it, she had a LOT of physicality. 

“You’re quite the accomplished lyricist, Ms. Tarth,” he told her, getting out a bottle of her a tall bottle of brandy. “You have a very compelling resume. Drink?”

“No thank you.”

“Recovery?”

“I’ve just never developed the taste.”

He nodded and poured himself a small glass. “I find it hard to believe Renly Baratheon would work with someone who didn't party as hard as he did. Speaking of.” He grabbed hold of her hand as she stood there, the name that slithered out of his mouth freezing her to the spot. Her breath turned ice cold and her heart stumbled in its beat. His voice was a queer combination of genuine apology and mocking, somehow both at once. “I’m  **_so_ ** sorry for your loss, Ms. Tarth. It was such a tragedy. Renly was so young, and so talented. You were the one who found him in that bathroom right?”

Her tongue grew heavy in her mouth. She could barely breathe much less speak so instead she just nodded. “Heroin was it? No, the news said it was cocaine, my mistake. It’s strange; if someone I was with took enough drugs to OD I would have noticed and called 911 long before they got sick. I suppose some of us don’t know our friends as well as we like to think we do.” 

He gave a polite smile, asked for a copy of the lyrics and chords and walked out leaving Brienne very much alone with tears in her bright blue eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter ‘Two Black Cadillacs,’ by Carrie Underwood, ‘Girl in a Country Song’ by Maddie & Tae and ‘Girl Like You’ by Jason Aldean.


End file.
